Sherlolly Collaborative Fic: Chapter 4
by rilakjenya
Summary: This is the fourth chapter of the Sherlolly location-themed collaborative fic. Sherlock, John, and Molly are travelling around the world to solve a case, so in each chapter they go to a different city. They've been to Liberty, Switzerland, and Detroit already. In this one, the trio go to Hong Kong. They are tired and they argue, but they grow closer at the same time.


**Chapter 4: Hong Kong**

******This is my first time posting a story online. English is not my first language, but I hope I did okay. Thanks whytejigsaw for the beta. **Hong Kong is my hometown. It's the Pearl of the East and a food heaven. Sadly, the trio didn't really get to try the food or go to the Peak. Well, maybe next time. 

**Chapter One story I.D.: 9266483. Two: 9323161. Three: 9399497. You can also find them in my favourite stories list. **

* * *

"Where are we going?"

"Hong Kong."

"Jackie Chan?"

"Bruce Lee."

* * *

"I know I said I wanted to travel around the world, but not in this way." John groaned, rubbing his face with his hands as he struggled to follow Sherlock while pushing the luggage cart.

After 16 hours of flight with a two-hour stopover in Toronto, they arrived at Hong Kong International Airport late at night, tired and sleepy. Even though they flew business class, it didn't help making the flight experience any more comfortable. The on-flight entertainment made the travel less boring, though, and John and Molly spent a few hours watching movies before they drifted off. Sherlock, who usually required little sleep and had no problem staying in the same position for a long time, found it difficult to be stuck in a small space for so many hours, too.

"You have plenty of chances to travel around the world if you have enough money," Sherlock said, walking ahead of his friends. He wouldn't admit he agreed with John. Mycroft had better bribe him well when he returned to London, or he wouldn't do any legwork for him again. His body was stiff and he wanted nothing more than a big, comfy bed at the moment. Therefore, when Molly suggested they should take one night off and get some real rest to help adjust their internal clocks, he didn't object.

They checked in to a five-star hotel next to the Victoria Harbour. As soon as Molly walked into her room, she gasped. In front of her was a wall of spectacular view of the harbour and Hong Kong Island. The neon lights illuminated the clouds and the water with red, yellow, blue and green. Just looking at the bright lights made her feel dazed yet energetic at the same time. She stood there enjoying the stunning views for a while before she reluctantly moved away from the window to get ready for bed. As she closed the curtain, she wondered if Sherlock and John's room had the same view. She was sure John would be amused, but what about Sherlock?

"While I wouldn't say the view is not impressive, I prefer London's." She snorted, impersonating Sherlock. That was probably his response if she asked him about it. She giggled.

* * *

Hong Kong used to be a colony of the British Empire for over 150 years, so besides Chinese, English was one of their official languages. There was English on every signs, from retail store banners to street signs, so the Trio found no difficulty as they made their way to their destination. One unavoidable problem was that they stood out. When they walked on the street, they attracted people's attention. It wasn't really because they recognised Sherlock or John, but simply for the fact that they weren't Chinese. Having a head of blond hair among a wave of black was attracting attention already, not to mention they couldn't hide their facial structures and one of their friends was 6 feet tall – a head taller than average Hong Kong people. Not even the master of disguise could help himself hide in plain sight in such case. The best thing they could do was to underdress, to look more like tourists rather than a group of professionals on their way to investigate murders.

Josie Ma was the one they were looking for. After the H.O.U.N.D. project ended, she went back to Hong Kong. Currently she taught Biology in university. The Associate Professor was described as nice and friendly by her students and colleagues. She was a little eccentric at time, but no one would have imagined she was once an active participant of a cruel project. The trio went to the university, but found that Professor Ma was absent.

"Excuse me. I heard you are looking for Professor Ma. Who are you?" A girl walked to them, looking at them with wary eyes.

"Ah, yes. We're her friends. We're on holiday and we want to see her before we leave," John said and smiled at her.

The girl didn't seem to buy it, though, as she continued to stare at them – at Sherlock, particularly. Sherlock stared right back at her. He was about to open his mouth and present his deduction, but John grabbed his arm and gave him a look that said 'you don't want to make her cry and attract more attention'. Something clicked in the girl's brain during Sherlock and John's exchange, and she gaped at them.

"I know who you are. You're not her friend. You're Sherlock Holmes!" She squeaked. "And John Watson! You're on a case. Oh God. What? Did Doctor Ma kill someone?!" She sounded oddly excited about the possibility of her professor being a murderer. "My name is Coco Cheng. Nice to meet you. Can I get an autograph? Or a deduction? I think it's wonderful that you can read pe- Wait. Wait." She stopped her speech and turned to Molly. "Oh my goodness, how could I- Please forgive me. You must be Molly Hooper. I almost didn't recognise you. I'd only seen small pictures of you. You look much prettier in person. I'm a big fan of yours. I love your blog. You're so funny and you're such an inspiration. My friends and I love you." She grabbed Molly's hands.

"Th-thank you. I don't really know people read my blog." Molly blushed and giggled. It was a bit overwhelming to know that you were someone's inspiration.

At first Sherlock was annoyed yet happy that someone recognised him. He got overlooked in light of Molly too many times during their trips. Finally he met a fan! Except she wasn't really a fan of his and she brushed him aside after she saw Molly Hooper. Fine. No autograph or deduction for you. And you're not getting any from my pathologist either. He grabbed Molly by her hand and pulled her to his back, even though she was in a conversation with Coco.

Instead of being angry, Coco gasped and giggled at them. "I got first-hand information! I don't suppose you would like to pose for the camera?" She didn't get a reply for her question, but she got a picture of Sherlock dragging Molly to leave with him.

"You are an international star, Molly." John nudged her in the arm as they both tried their best to walk as fast as Sherlock, who always forgot not everyone had a pair of long legs.

"Yes. Maybe I even have a fan club!" She giggled and bit her lip, feeling her cheeks burning. Sherlock was still holding her hand as they walked out of the campus. No one made a comment on that, not even John. She wouldn't be able to keep up with his pace if he wasn't dragging her.

Looking at him from the corner of her eyes, she wondered if he was unhappy and jealous of her. No way. That was impossible. He would be the biggest idiot ever if he was unhappy about that. Did he not know his influence on people? Well, she knew. She was the constant victim to his charm. She was in his fan club.

She kept her head down, hoping he wouldn't notice her hand sweating in his warm big hand.

* * *

Instead of renting a car, they used a taxi as their transport method. The narrow roads and busy traffic were a challenge to drivers especially if they didn't know their way around the city. Due to their previous experiences with taxi drivers, they made sure they checked underneath the seats, inside the boot, and the cabbie's face and license. It was inconvenient, but it was better to be paranoid than dead.

Sherlock hoped he could get some useful information from Josie Ma rather than chasing after the deaths. What were the motives to kill those scientists? What were they trying to get from them, or rather, to hide away from the world? Why after all these years? Did the 'x' behind Andre Chambers's ear mean anything or was it just a trick to distract his focus? There were a lot of dots in his brain, waiting to be linked up by clues.

The front gate of the building Josie Ma lived in required four-letter password, which wasn't hard to figure out. There was no security guard in the front desk, but a sign that said they were patrolling the floors. No one stopped to question why these foreigners were there.

The lift brought them to the right floor. When they walked out, they heard the loud noise of a door being shut. Someone brushed past them and ran to the emergency exit.

"What sort of hurry is he in?" John grumbled, walking towards the direction of Josie Ma's flat while rubbing his shoulder where he was bumped by the stranger. His finger was already on the doorbell, when Sherlock suddenly pushed him aside and banged his body against the door.

"What are you-!" The door opened and Josie Ma was lying on the floor unconsciously.

"Shit." Sherlock turned and ran to the emergency exit. They were one step later than the murderer. Running down the stairs, he jumped down several steps at one time. His Belstaff coat swirled behind him like a cape.

There were thirty-eight floors in the building and that man could easily just have walked onto a random floor to escape. Sherlock tried his best to keep up, and saw an emergency door swinging. Slowly pushing the door, he stepped in.

The structure of the corridor was a 'U', which meant the man could be hiding on either side, waiting for Sherlock's action and then attack him from his blind spot. Sherlock stayed still by the emergency door. He listened, very carefully, to any noise that might tell him which side the man was hiding. What he didn't expect was someone coming to him from the ceiling. He quickly stepped aside once he noticed, but he still got hit in the arm. The man was in a uniform of a gas company. Asian. Mid thirty. His was well-built and fluid in his movement, skilfully avoided every attack from Sherlock. Every strike he aimed at Sherlock was precise, quick, and difficult to dodge without getting hit in another part of the body. Sherlock was struggling to match his attacks. When he thought he was going to lose, Molly jumped on the man from behind and poked her fingers in his eyes. He yelped in pain, and shook Molly off his back by pulling on her hair. Molly fell down with a scream. The man took the opportunity to bolt out of the floor.

Rubbing the back of her head, Molly whined and tried to stand up.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" She asked.

"Yes." Panting, he helped Molly stood up, but stopped immediately when Molly's face twisted in pain.

"I think I hurt my ankle," she said quietly with her head down. "Sorry." Grabbing Sherlock by his wrist, she stood on one foot. She tried to walk, but she couldn't even manage one step.

Without saying a word, Sherlock picked her up in his arms. Not expecting that, Molly squeaked and wrapped her arms around his neck. Once she got over the shock, she put them down.

"Did I hurt you?" Sherlock asked.

"No," she mumbled, keeping her arms in front of her chest. She could feel the heat spreading from his body through his thin shirt and the vibration of his heartbeat as she leaned her head against him. If her ankle wasn't giving her so much pain, she would have enjoyed the experience more. She sighed.

Molly had already called 999 when she followed Sherlock to chase the man, so the police was on their way. Josie Ma was strangled from behind with a string, which was obvious, judging from the small and long red bruise on her neck. Her heartbeat was very weak when they found her. After John performed CPR on Ma, she breathed again, but the short period of oxygen shortage to the brain was going to do damage.

Before the police arrived, Sherlock investigated the scene. It seemed that Josie Ma knew someone was looking for her: her windows were locked and covered by newspaper, blocking any view from outside; there were several deadbolts on the door; and the lights were off despite how dark the flat was. The man got in by claiming there was a gas leak, most likely. The flat was rummaged, and there wasn't any clue what was taken away, either by Ma or the suspect. John accompanied Molly to the hospital while Sherlock stayed and talked to the police.

* * *

In the afternoon, they were back in their hotel room again. Sherlock didn't want to go back yet, he wanted to keep investigating but John called him and insisted he should see Molly. She was ill. The lack of sleep, the shock, and the pain from the ankle defeated Molly. The fever wasn't serious enough that required her to stay overnight at the hospital, but it might get worse during the night. John wanted to give all the comfort she could possibly get. Guess who could be the biggest comfort to Molly (and at the same time, a giant pain in the ass to John)?

She was sleeping when Sherlock went back to the hotel. He was glad that he didn't have to face her. He was frustrated about being one step too late from stopping the murder, and guilty about Molly getting hurt because of him. He was also angry at her for putting herself in danger. What if that man hit her back instead of bolting away? The possibility of what could have happened made him feel sick as if his stomach was tied to a knob.

Sherlock turned to leave the room after a glance at the woman in the bed.

"Where are you going?" John said, following him.

"Continue finding clues." Did John even run the question in his head before he asked?

"But Molly is here. You're not going to stay with her for a while?"

"Why?" He stopped and turned to look at him. "Why should I stay?"

John frowned.

"Well, she got hurt and it's because of you. Don't you feel a responsibility to do something?"

"That's why I am going out. What can I do here? The clues won't pop up themselves if I don't look for them. The case doesn't solve itself."

"Clues and case! Is that all you care about? If it wasn't for Molly, you would probably be dead now. And I thought you cared about her." John shouted, unable to keep his voice down. His face was flushed by anger.

"And that's why I have to solve the case as soon as possible!" Sherlock shut the door behind him and left.

Of course he didn't only care about clues and case. He also cared about Molly and felt sorry that she was sick. But did they need to all stay in the room to take care of a person? John staying would be enough. He would be better at taking care of her since he was a doctor. Sherlock believed he should go solve the case, so that they could end the trip and go home as soon as possible.

However, John still didn't understand how Sherlock thought sometimes and called him uncaring.

Sherlock sighed.

* * *

At midnight, Sherlock came back. He used the room key that he took away earlier in the day to unlock the door to Molly's room.

Molly was still sleeping. Occasionally she would murmur in her sleep. Sherlock checked her temperature with the back of his hand. The fever still hadn't gone away. He put a wet towel on her forehead and moved the armchair to sit near the bed.

He was in his mind palace going through what happened in the day when he heard her scream his name.

"Sherlock! Sherlock…" A drop of tear fell down from the corner of her eye. It wasn't difficult to figure out what sort of dreams she was having. Sherlock held her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb.

"I'm here. It's okay," he said, but his voice only made Molly grabbed his hand tighter.

"Be careful…" Tears continued rolling down her face. Even in her dream, she was worried about him.

Sherlock heaved a sigh. He wiped away her tears gently.

"Shush, I'm here. I'm alright." He stroked her head, and soon the furrow between her brows relaxed, but she was still mumbling Sherlock's name quietly every other minute.

It was neither the first time he heard her say his name softly, nor was there anything special about the way she called him. Yet every call of his name from her lips was like a gentle breeze, and it made him feel warm.

Looking at his pathologist sleeping soundly again, Sherlock leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before he went to change the wet towel for her.

He stayed by her side for the rest of the night, and went back to his room before dawn.

* * *

When Molly woke up, it was nearly afternoon. She was fully recovered and felt like a new person. The healthy blush that made her face glow was back on her cheeks again. Her ankle hurt much less.

As if he set a spy camera in her room, Sherlock walked into her room after she freshened up. John was behind him, of course.

"Good morning, Molly," they said at the same time.

"How are you feeling? I see you're better this morning." John checked her temperature to make sure she was well.

"I feel good. Thanks for taking care of me," she said to John. Last night, when she was sleeping, she could feel someone looking after her, changing the towel on her forehead from time to time, wiping away the sweat on her face and neck. She assumed it was John, as she hadn't seen Sherlock after she left the crime scene until this morning. It didn't seem like something Sherlock would do, anyway. Though at some point she opened her eyes and saw Sherlock looking at her with worried eyes. She must be dreaming. She wished she wasn't.

"Any time." John smiled, but didn't know what she was referring to.

"Josie Ma is in a coma, unsurprisingly. The doctor doesn't know when she will wake up. I called Mycroft, whom arranged security for her room. Besides her doctors and nurses, no one is allowed to visit. She has no relatives, no boyfriends, so it doesn't matter anyway." The fact that Sherlock didn't throw this news to Molly as soon as he walked into the room was actually an act of consideration. He assumed she would take Josie Ma being in a coma and that she had no relatives to take care of her as sad news. Being a sentimental person, she wouldn't want it to be the first thing she heard in the morning.

"There is no useful information related to the project in her flat. She probably hid them in a safe place. But the attempted murder still told me something. I now have some ideas who, or rather, what is behind these planned serial murders. We can move on to our next destination."

* * *

When they were on their way to the airport, Molly thanked John properly again.

"I'm sorry I'm such a bother. You must be tired, John, after you took care of me for a night. Thank you so much. I don't think I'd get well this soon if it wasn't because of you."

"Eh, well, Molly…" John scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry about that. I set the alarm before I took a nap, but I failed to wake up. I- I slept till bright morning." He blushed.

"It wasn't you? But there was someone-" Molly's eyes widened as she realised who was her nurse last night.

It was Sherlock who took care of her.

She remembered the dream. She remembered some hands holding and hair stroking. She remembered a kiss on the forehead.

Were these a part of her dream? Or did Sherlock…?

Molly's face burnt bright red as she thought about the possibility of them not being a part of a dream. She gasped.

When Sherlock turned back to urge his friends to walk faster, he saw the image of John and Molly blushing at each other. He blinked. What did he miss?

"Walk faster! We have a flight to catch!" He pulled Molly by her hand and dragged her away from John, before he remembered she hurt her ankle and slowed down.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, and have a nice day. If you have time, please leave me a few words in the box below. There are two more chapters coming soon from another Sherlolly writers.**

**Cover taken from Wikipedia. It's in public domain.**

**The fifth part of the story by whytejigsaw: Story I.D.: 9791196**


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